Thinnedhel's Bane
by Moralanqua
Summary: One will rise up and lead the Clans of Men to face their destiny. Clauriel of the Aredain will endure much but she will not be alone, the last of the elven race will be at her side and they will be led by someone who was thought perished...
1. Dawning of the Clans An Introduction

** The Dawning of the Clans – An Introduction.**   
  
With the birth of the Fourth Age, many great events occurred and a new beginning was given to all. Old vendettas were put aside and peace was finally felt amongst Men.  
  
It was late during the rein of King Eldarion Telcontar that the Clans were formed. The lands known as 'Near Harad' and 'Harondor', or 'South Gondor', had long been in dispute. The plains were home to few whilst the Men of Gondor and the Haradrim fought for possession of these uncharted realms.  
  
It was only thanks to the negotiations and concessions of King Eldarion that a resolve was achieved and men once more began to build their homes in this once war-ravaged land. The outpost of Umbar was transformed into a thriving, trading city and the newly unified lands were officially known as 'Harondor' with the people proud to call themselves 'Harondorrim'. They swore allegiance to the King of the Reunified Lands of Gondor and Arnor and paid dues to their liege. The King of Harad and Warrior Emperor of Khand and its Variags were given access to the wealth of resources in Harondor and so all were content.  
  
Centuries passed in Harondor and soon a clan system had formed. The main territories were divided amongst the Chieftains and their Clans for management. Desert lands became fertile and farming and agriculture was very prosperous. For many years all was peaceful and the men of Middle- earth lived in harmony. But it was not meant to be...  
  
Soon, a festering began in the flawed hearts of some and greed overcame reason. Clans warred with each other and many fled north to the sanctuary of Rhovanion. The greatness and sacrifice of yesteryear was forgotten, and myth and legend swallowed the old tales. Elves and dwarves were seldom ever seen and most thought these races to have vanished forevermore – but they were wrong and they were watched as the years flew by. Thranduil remained in his Woodland Realm with Celeborn in the south. Together, they observed the changes amongst mortals and did not intervene.  
  
Soon the time would come for a great battle. It would be known as the Battle of Men but it would not be the last. This time, the good and pure would be led to victory, but not by a man...


	2. Prologue

** Prologue  
**  
The light was too bright. He squinted and turned his head to the side. It did little to help, for he could not shield himself from the Holy Illumination of the Valar. His thoughts came to him chaotically and his mind ached from images and emotions he could hardly recall.  
  
Haldir groaned and flexed his muscles. He was tired and his body felt strange. He could feel his very blood coursing through his veins and his heart pounded like a drumbeat within his chest. The muscles beneath his skin clenched tightly and began cramping. The elements of Spring, and the dampness of night, seeped into the haze of brilliant, blinding whiteness and he felt the cold.  
  
'Cold?' Haldir opened his eyes and focused.  
  
How could he feel cold? He was wearing full body armour and a scarlet cloak. Or was he not?  
  
Haldir sat slowly upwards and blinked. He held his hands up and examined the flesh that felt strangely alien to him.  
  
'Yes' he said, nodding to himself. These were definitely his hands. He made sure by turning his palms over. The same hands that held his sword and notched his white fletched arrows quivered before his bewildered gaze.  
  
A sudden sigh from nearby distracted him and he looked for the source of the sound. The light had faded whilst he was disorientated but he could see clearly now and recognised the lulling whispers from some nearby trees. Haldir saw that he was in a forest, that it was night, and that he was very nude.  
  
Confusion marred the perfection of his noble face and he tried to stand up. His first attempt failed and he found himself back on the ground; the trees were amused but he was not!  
  
Haldir cursed in a language he thought he had forgotten. It was the ancient tongue of the Eldar. When had he learned it? He could not remember. He could not remember much of anything, especially not where he was and why...?  
  
He made a second attempt at standing and, through sheer determination, was successful. His knees felt too weak to bear him and he clutched at a tree trunk for support. Gently, a breeze carried through the boughs of Lorien and the news of this event was sung into attentive elven ears. Haldir did not know this and continued to gather his bearings.  
  
He trembled and looked up to the sky. The sea of inky black was netted with the radiant gems of Elbereth and Haldir found some comfort in that. He took a step forward and gradually managed another and another until he was able to walk again. Feeling quite proud of himself, he smiled and that was when it came to him; all that he had been and all that he was now. Haldir cried out and fell to his knees.  
  
They found him sobbing as though his heart were broken. They were surprised and disbelieving at first, but then two came forward and his identity was confirmed. Joy and incredulous wonderment filled the two as they wrapped a cloak around Haldir.  
  
He looked at them through watery and pain-glazed eyes, "Rúmil? Orophin?" he asked.  
  
The two smiled and embraced him, the brothers were reunited and great things were about to unfold... 


End file.
